


Dashes On The Road

by ClaireAndy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Ass-Kicking, BAMF Allison Argent, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, F/M, Slow Build, Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireAndy/pseuds/ClaireAndy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles, Allison, and Lydia kill an elite hunter, they have no choice but to go on the road. Can the three of them survive on their own, and what will it mean for their relationships?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, so leave any comments if I messed something up!

“You damn idiots!” Derek shouted at them. He huffed a huge sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell were you thinking? That guy was part of a group of elite hunters, and you bet your asses they’ll be after you! You didn’t really think you could just kill one of them and expect them to let it go, right?” Stiles stood, and crossed his arms, face to face with Derek. 

“They were going to kill you! You couldn’t expect us to just sit back and watch that happen!” He motioned to Lydia and Allison, sitting behind him on the couch. Derek growls, eyes barely flashing red. 

 

“Do you know what this means? It means you’re going to have to leave. You have to run. It’s your only chance. When they get here, and they will, Chris might be able to talk them down, but until then, you have to go.” Derek stalked out of the room, pulling his phone out as he left.

“Well, I guess we better call my dad,” Allison sighed. 

“”

Lydia, Allison, and Stiles stood in front of Chris Argent. Allison’s hair was a shade darker, Lydia’s a shade lighter. Stiles had cut his hair short, and had a beanie pushed down onto his head. Each had a backpack slung over their shoulders. They were filled with clothes, cash, weapons. Everything they would need to survive in a world where everything supernatural would definitely know who they were. The Hale-McCall pack was big in the supernatural world, and everyone knew who the packmates were. Even the human ones. Chris passed a folder to each of them.

“Your new identities. Don’t buy anything too big, avoid high security areas, and most importantly, don’t look back. Keep running until we get ahold of you. It doesn’t matter where you go, just don’t come back to California,” he said, before roughly pulling Allison into an embrace. He did the same for Lydia, and shook Stiles hand. Stiles handed Chris his old driver’s license, before replacing it with his new one.

Sean Hill. Travelling with his two best friends, Christina Foster, Lydia’s new identity, and Rebecca Patterson, which was Allison’s. All twenty-two years old, all from Seattle, Washington. Their cover story was flawless, but they couldn’t help but be nervous. They were running for their lives, after all. The three turned to the pack.

“We’ll be back soon,” Stiles said, trying to sound cheerful. Scott pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. There was no promise that they would make it through this. They waved to the pack, and got into the car with Chris. The pack stood there, waving, until they were out of sight.

“”

Chris dropped them off at the airport. He handed them their plane tickets to Chicago , and said a last goodbye. Thankfully, due to their very careful concealment, their weapons made it through security. Their plane didn’t leave for a few hours, so they sat themselves in a small Starbucks. 

“I always dreamed of leaving, but never like this,” Lydia murmured. She sipped her coffee, and leaned her head on her hands. They sat in silence for a while, until their flight number was called. It was a full flight, full of excited people, people who were travelling for fun. They were choosing to do this. They weren’t running for their lives. 

They watched as Ontario International Airport disappeared beneath them. It was late, already dark outside. Stiles pushed his seat back. He knew he should get some sleep, but he was just too nervous. He looked at the other two, and from their fidgeting, knew they were the same. Damn it, he already missed Beacon Hills. He missed Scott, and his dad, and wow, he even missed Derek. This was bad. 

About an hour into the flight, Lydia’s head dropped onto his shoulder, fast asleep. Before, that might have made Stiles freak out, but the circumstances didn’t really allow it at the moment. However, Lydia’s warmth against him did relax him, and he was able to fall into a light sleep. 

He was shaken awake a while later by Allison’s hand on his shoulder. “We’re about to land,” she said softly. He blinked awake, looking out the window. The city lights of Chicago were spread out beneath them. Allison met his eyes, her face looking hopeful for the first time in a while. 

They landed, and caught a cab to a small hotel downtown. The cashier gave them a weird look when they paid with cash, but they got the room nonetheless. It wasn’t too gross, which was good. Lydia plunked herself down on the bed, while Allison went to take a shower.

“So what do we do now?” She asked. Stiles ran a hand across his scalp. 

“Sleep. We’ll decide whether or not to stay tomorrow.” Stiles kicked off his shoes and started to crawl into the bed opposite Lydia.

“No, give Allison that one. I hate sleeping with her, she kicks me out of the bed and steals all the covers.” Lydia patted the bed beside her. “Come here.” Stiles heart started beating faster, and not for the first time, he was glad that Lydia wasn’t a werewolf. He rolled onto his side, watching her as she wrote some stuff down in her notebook. He fell asleep soon after, dreaming of hunters and guns pressed to his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chicago can't be that bad, can it?

Stiles nuzzled into the warm body wrapped around him. Wait, who am I cuddling with? His eyes flashed open, and he saw Lydia Martin’s head tucked underneath his chin. His eyes widened at the sudden realization that Holy shit, I’m snuggling with Lydia. Stiles was careful not to move. This was a moment he wanted to remember, and he didn’t want to wake her up too soon. 

But eventually, Lydia began to stir, so Stiles gently detached himself from her, and got up. Allison was sprawled on the other bed, still sound asleep. Stiles grabbed his backpack and hopped into the shower. As he scrubbed his scalp with cheap hotel shampoo, it hit him that he wasn’t home. He wasn’t on vacation, he wasn’t on a road trip. He was running.

Lydia and Allison were awake when he came out of the bathroom. Stiles sat in a chair, pulling on his boots. “Where to next, ladies?”

“Chicago is a big city. Do you think we could get away with walking around for one day? Just one day,” Lydia said. The other two looked at her skeptically. “Please, Stiles, I’ve always wanted to see Chicago! Ally, please?” She gave them puppy dog eyes. Allison huffed. 

“Fine, but we’re not staying in this hotel again. And I want knives within easy reach on all of us.” Stiles slid a small knife sheath onto his forearm, and pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt over it. Lydia strapped one to her jeans, covering it with her jacket. Allison concealed multiple weapons all over her body, but that really wasn’t any different from a normal day. 

The three checked out of the hotel, and headed downtown. It was almost comforting to be surrounded by so many people. They just blended into the crowds. 

“We have to go to Fifth Avenue! I want to at least look at the stores!” Stiles pulled out an actual paper map, since none of them had their cell phones anymore, and pointed them in the right direction. As he looked across the street, he made direct eye contact with a man with bleach blonde hair and silvery blue eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Stiles looked away awkwardly.

“Well, that was weird. That guy just stared at me,” Stiles said.

“He’s probably into you,” Allison joked. Stiles hit her lightly on the shoulder, and the kept on walking. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about the man. They turned down Fifth Avenue, and Lydia stopped to look in the windows of one of the shops. While the girls checked out the highly overpriced handbags, Stiles looked around him. About a hundred yards down the road, Stiles saw the same blonde man. 

He grabbed Allison and Lydia and dragged them away. “What are you doing?” Lydia complained.

“Just walk. The guy is following us,” Stiles hissed. He looked behind him to see the guy speeding up. “Run!” They pushed through the crowds, going as fast as they could on the packed street. The first alley they reached they ducked into, and hid behind a dumpster. 

“We’ll grab him when he comes buy. I’d bet he’s one of the group,” Allison said. They watched as the man ran into the alley, and pulled out a gun. Just as he passed them, Stiles launched himself at him. A gunshot rang out through the alleyway.

“Damn it!” Stiles swore in pain, clutching his leg. Just as the man rose his gun again, presumably to shoot Stiles in the head this time, an arrow whizzed past him to pierce the man right between the eyes.

“Grab the body!” Lydia instructed. The two girls hauled the body over to the dumpster, and unceremoniously chucked it in. Stiles was still grabbing his leg, but blood was beginning to slip through his fingers. “Shit, shit, shit…” Lydia whispered. Allison pulled a first aid kit out of her bag. 

“Stiles, I have to get the bullet out. This is going to hurt like hell but I need you to be quiet, okay?” Stiles nodded, gritting his teeth as Allison dug a pair of tweezers into the hole in his thigh. “Okay, I’ve got it.” Stiles let out a low groan. She rubbed some anesthetic over the bullet hole, and pressed gauze into it, taping it in place. As soon as Stiles was able to move at all, they ran as fast as they could away from the body. “We have to leave. Now.”


	3. Chapter 3

They called a cab to a Greyhound station, and took the first bus away. None of them really knew where they were going, and Stiles was on the verge of passing out. Lydia held his hand, rubbing the back of it with her thumb, while Allison organized things. 

“We’re going to Cleveland, I guess. I really need to call my dad. Hopefully he knows someone around there who can help us.” Allison pulled out a burner cell phone, and dialed her dad’s number. 

 

“Hello, this is Argent.”

“Dad, it’s Allison. We need your help. One of the group found us, and they shot Stiles, and we’re going to Cleveland, but we don’t have enough weapons, and we don’t know if they’re following us-”

“Allison, deep breath. It’ll be fine. Is Stiles okay?”

 

“Yeah, he’s doing alright all things considered.”

 

“Good. Now, I’ll give you a list of people I know that will be willing to help…”

 

Lydia was looking out the window when Stiles head dropped onto her shoulder. She looked at him sharply, and let go of his hand to pat his face. His eyes opened sleepily. 

“Come on, Stiles, stay awake. Don’t go to sleep on me, okay?” Her thumb brushed across his cheekbone. Stiles nodded slowly. “Tell me about the magic that Deaton’s been teaching you.” Lydia could see the change in Stiles’s eyes. They instantly became a little brighter. 

“Well, there’s this one thing he’s teaching me to do where I can basically create winds and bend them to where I want them to go…” 

Allison turned back towards the pair. “Dad told me a list of people that will be able to help.” Allison snapped the phone in half. “Tell me when the driver isn’t looking.” Lydia glanced in the mirror above the driver’s seat. He seemed pretty intent on the road. 

“You’re good,” Lydia said softly. Allison slowly opened the window, and chucked the phone out of it. 

“We can’t be too careful now.” 

“”  
They got off the bus in Cleveland five hours later, tired and hungry. Allison looked at their location, and pointed to a person on the list in her hand. “Here. This woman is a shaman that Dad’s had contact with for a while. He said she’ll be able to heal Stiles.”

Lydia hailed a cab, and they told the driver he’d get an extra fifty bucks if he got them there in half the time. He got them there in a third of it. Allison threw a wad of cash at the driver, and they hurried to the door. It was a small run down shack in a rougher part of Cleveland. Lydia pulled Stiles arm over her shoulder, and Allison stepped forward, knocking on the door. A woman in layers of clothing and beaded hair opened the door. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m Allison Argent, my dad, Chris Argent, said you might be able to help us, my friend is seriously wounded, and we need somewhere to stay…”

The woman regarded the small group suspiciously. “Argent, you say? Alright, come in, come in.” She led them to a kitchen, and motioned to a small island. “Lay the boy here.” Stiles was pale and barely conscious. “You, what’s your name?” She waved a hand in the air. 

“Lydia.”

 

“Good. A strong name. The name of a Saint. I need you to get the fabric away from the wound.” She handed Lydia a knife. “My name is Nydine, by the way. Allison, I need your help with these herbs.” 

Lydia turned towards Stiles. His breathing was shallow and he was shaking slightly. She put a hand on his leg to steady herself, and carefully cut his jeans around the wound. It stuck slightly to the bullet hole when she pulled it off, and Stiles let out a low moan. She brushed her hand across his forehead, murmuring to him softly. Nydine came over with a small bowl of herbs and a bottle of water. 

“I need one of you to hold his head, please. This won’t feel too good for him, and we need to hold him still.” Lydia stepped forward, and placed her hands on the sides of his head, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Nydine poured the water over the bullet hole and sprinkled some herbs across it. She placed her hand on it and started whispering some words in another language. Stiles’ teeth gritted, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He started to shake violently. 

“Stiles, come on, calm down you’ll be fine,” Lydia tried to calm him down. “Stiles, come on, please! STILES!!


	4. Chapter 4

Allison and Lydia sat on a couch in Nydine’s living room, freshly showered, hands wrapped around mugs of tea. Nydine came in and sat in the chair in front of them. 

“Stiles will be fine. I didn’t realize the boy had magic in him, and when I tried to heal him, his magic didn’t recognize the good intentions of my own magic, and it tried to fight me. However, his magic isn’t fully developed, and it was easy for me to take over.” The two girls huffed sighs of relief. 

 

“Thank you so much. We’ll be on our way as soon as Stiles is better.” Nydine nodded. 

“As much as I hate to kick you kids out to the street, the hunters that are after you are extremely dangerous, and I want to do everything I can to stay on their good side. But before you leave, is there anything you need?” Allison looked at Lydia, raising one eyebrow. 

“Maybe a better first aid kit? And better weapons, if you have any. Ours aren’t exactly right for what we’re dealing with.” Nydine nodded. 

“I think Stiles is waking up. I’ll get you your stuff, why don’t you tell him to take a shower?” She smiled kindly at the girls. 

“I’ll do it. You’ve done the most for him anyways,” Lydia said to Allison, standing. She walked into the kitchen, where Stiles was sitting up, bloody and sweaty, but alive. As soon as she was within arms reach, Stiles pulled her into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. Lydia shook her head.

“I didn’t do much. It was Allison who saved the day.” Stiles pulled back to look into her eyes. 

“It was your voice I heard through everything. You kept me grounded.” Lydia smiled softly. 

 

“Alright, cheeseball. You need a shower.” She helped him to the bathroom, handing him his bag and a towel. “Now don’t come back until I can stand to smell you again.” Stile threw back his head in a cackle. 

Allison was sitting on the floor of the living room, re-packing their bags with satchels of herbs, various ointments, and new bandages. Lydia looked through the pile of weapons sitting on the table. There were small daggers for each of them, new arrows for Allison, and a bunch of things she didn’t know the name of. Nydine came up from behind her. She picked up a coiled leather whip. 

“This has tiny metal spikes embedded into the end of it. Be careful not to hit yourself in the face, though. It could take an eye out.” Stiles appeared behind her. 

“That’s really kinky.”

Lydia stuck her tongue out at him. Nydine held out a short, curved sword.

“Be careful. This is the sharpest sword I have. It will cut almost anything.” Stiles took the sheath with a nod, clipping it to his backpack. Allison stood up, heaving her pack onto her back. 

“Thank you, Nydine. We’ll keep in touch after all of this dies down. But for now, no one will know we’ve even been here.” Lydia stepped forward to hug her, and Stiles shook her hand.

“Thank you. For everything.”

The three waved one last time, and headed out of the house


	5. Chapter 5

It didn’t matter where they were going, as long as they just kept moving. They never stayed in one place for more than a day, and as of two weeks later, they were in Boston, Massachusetts. No one had bothered them since the hunter in Chicago, but they were keeping their guard up anyways. No one had contacted them from Beacon Hills, either, but they did that day. They were walking by a telephone booth when it began to ring. Stiles looked at the girls to his sides. 

“Um, should I answer it?” Allison shrugged. Stiles stepped forward, picking up the phone. “Hello?” 

“Stiles, is that you? Stiles, it’s Scott.” 

“Scott, man, how are you? How did you find us? Is everything okay?” Allison’s hand covered her mouth, and Lydia began to tug on the end of her braid nervously. 

“Peter has his connections. And yeah, everything’s okay. Kind of. A guy from the hunter group came into town, and told us that they’d never stop hunting you.”

 

“Really, Scott?! That’s your definition of okay?!” Stiles practically shouted into the phone. 

 

“Wait! Chris went with the guy to talk to the leader, so we don’t know what’s going to happen.” Stiles sighed. 

“Well, at least there’s that. Scott, it was nice to hear from you guys, but we have to go. Talk to you soon.” Stiles hung up the phone. “Everything’s okay. It was just Scott’s normal backwards way of making everything seem much worse than it actually is.”

 

Lydia scrubbed a hand over her face. “Well, we should probably find a place to stay. We’ve been staying in dive hotels for two weeks. Can we please stay somewhere nicer tonight?” Stiles grinned. 

“I thought you would say that. I got us a room downtown. Don’t worry.” 

Lydia clapped her hands. “I haven’t had a decent shower in days!” Allison stuck out her hand to hail a cab. 

Their walk through the lobby was a disaster. As soon as they got five yards into the hotel, a man in a suit and a name tag reading Norman stepped up to them.   
“I’m sorry, but only hotel patrons are allowed into this lobby.” 

“We are staying here. My name is Sean Hill, and I put in a reservation here earlier.”

 

Norman looked them up and down, disdain clear as day on his face. 

 

“I highly doubt that.” Stiles eyebrows furrowed.

“Listen here, fucknut. I put in a reservation, you told me you could give me a room, so you’re going to give me the fucking room, alright?” Lydia put a hand on Stiles’s arm.

“I’m so sorry, sir. We’re from Seattle. I’m Christina Jannard, daughter of James Jannard. You may have heard of me?” Norman’s eyes widened. 

“My sincere apologies, miss. Here, right this way to the reception desk.” He ushered them along, a beaming smile plastered on his face. As the receptionist handed them their room keys, Stiles smirked at Norman. With a sarcastic wave, the three headed up to their rooms. They were on the top floor, and gave an incredible view of the ocean. 

“Where did you get this extra money, Stiles?” Allison asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Remember that bar we were at a few nights ago in Cleveland? And I was playing high stakes poker with that guy in the weird cat shirt? Well, never bet thousands of dollars against a magic user.” Stiles opened his backpack to show them envelopes full of money. Lydia laughed and swatted his shoulder. 

“Stiles, come on, that’s cheating,” she giggled. He shrugged.

“Now, what do you say we order some room service?” 

They ordered about ten different dishes, seafood and chicken and steak, pasta and rice, and a bunch of different deserts, plus alcohol. Lots of alcohol. When the food arrived, the bellboy looked suspicious, and asked to see Lydia’s ID. She handed it to him, winking. 

….

“Here’s to not dying for another week,” Stiles raised his glass of champagne. The other two girls clinked their glasses with his. There were three bottles of champagne, and then two, and then one. And then there was a bottle of vodka. And then that was gone, too.


	6. Chapter 6

Lydia sat next to Stiles on the floor of his room. Allison had gone to bed a few hours ago. “Fucking lightweight,” Lydia had whispered, laughing. 

“Truth or dare,” she whispered. Stiles laughed. 

“Truth.” 

“Who do you find hotter, me or Allison?” 

“What kind of question is that?”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, your turn.

“Truth or dare.” 

“Truth.” Lydia hiccuped.

“Come on Lydia, you’re boring.”

“You literally just chose truth.” 

“Oh, yeah, well. Who do you find hotter, Derek or Boyd?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Derek. Have you seen those abs?” Stiles chuckled. “Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” Stiles whispered. 

“Kiss me,” Lydia said, looking at Stiles from under her lashes. Stiles looked at her in surprise, but Lydia wasn’t laughing. She was smiling softly at him, but she was serious. Stiles leaned forward, their noses brushing, and pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back, but Lydia followed him, smashing their lips together again and pushing him onto his back. Stiles pushed his tongue into her mouth, and he never wanted to forget what she tasted like. She tasted sweet and spicy and just like Lydia.   
She pushed her hands under the hem of his shirt, smoothing over the toned muscle of his abs. She tugged at the hem, and he complied, raising his arms so she could lift the shirt over his head. He pulled off her shirt then too, and thumbed at the back of her bra, meeting her eyes.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice husky. Lydia nodded. He unhooked the bra, letting it fall from her shoulders. “God, Lydia, you’re so beautiful.” He flipped them over, suddenly, and pressed his mouth to the space between her breasts, sucking a bruise there. Stiles kissed his way lower, pressing wet kisses in a line down her stomach. He paused at her waist, contemplating the button of her jeans. He contemplated the button of her jeans. 

“Stiles, fuck, just take them off.” He pulled off her jeans, tossing them away. She reached for his jeans, but he put a hand on hers. 

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked. She laughed sarcastically.

“You’re so dense, of course I want this.” He tugged his jeans down his thighs. “Do you have a condom?” Stiles nodded, and leaned over to grab the one he had in his wallet. He rolled it on, and poised himself over her. “Get on with it,” Lydia teased him. He thrust into her, and she moaned softly. She wrapped his arms around his neck, and he adjusted his angle, finding that spot inside of her that made her arch her back against him.

Lydia screamed his name as she came, clenching around him, until he came too, groaning out Lydia’s name, among other curse words. They lay next to each other on the floor, both entirely exhausted, until Stiles pulled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it in the trashcan by the bed.

“Can we go to the bed?” Lydia whispered, eyelids beginning to droop. Stiles scooped her up, placing her on the bed, before he crawled beside her. He knew they should talk about it, but all he wanted was to wrap her in his arms, and so that’s what he did. He fell asleep listening to Lydia’s soft breathing and the feeling of her head on his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Stiles heard a voice murmur. He grinned, not opening his eyes. 

“Morning,” he whispered back. There was a knock on the door, and Stiles opened his eyes, snapping back into his normal vigilance. 

“Guys, come on, open the door,” Allison said from the hallway. Lydia grabbed her shirt from the ground and pulled it on, while Stiles put on his sweatpants and went to answer the door. Allison grinned smugly at Lydia as she strolled in and plopped down in the desk chair. “You two were awfully loud last night.” Stiles turned bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” 

“No, it’s cool. The next time I want to hear the sounds of my best friends fucking, I’ll know where to turn. Anyways, I ordered breakfast. It’ll be here any minute. But I have to go grab something from my room. Just wanted to make sure you two were awake.” She practically flounced out the door. Lydia stared at Stiles until he looked back at her.

 

“So, about last night…” she started. 

“Yeah, uh, we were both really drunk and I’m really sorry if you did anything you didn’t want to do and I totally understand if you-”

“Stiles!” She interrupted him. “No! I may have been drunk but I still remember everything, and I haven’t felt that great in a long time.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, neither have I.” 

“Spending these last few weeks with you, I realized I need you,” she murmured.

“I need you too, Lydia.” He leaned across the bed to kiss her softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. There was another knock at the door. 

 

“That’s probably room service.” He flung open the door. “Do you have our-”

“Don’t move.”

A man was standing there, holding a gun to Allison’s head. “One more move and she dies.” 

Lydia ran forward, trying to get to her best friend, but Stiles flung out an arm to stop her. 

“What do you want?” Stiles asked, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“You know what I want. You’re going to walk with me downstairs, and out to the car I have waiting, and we’re going to come with me to Wyman, and we’ll see what he wants to do with you.” 

“Fine, alright, but can we at least put clothes on?” The man nodded solemnly. 

“You have a minute.” Stiles threw on his boots and a sweatshirt. As Lydia pulled on her clothes, Stiles strained to think of a spell Deaton had mentioned to him once. It bewitched an object to follow you. “Obiectum et veni sequere me,” he whispered, holding his hands over the bag of weapons. It disappeared, but he could feel the bag basically tie itself to his soul. It would reappear when he said the words backwards. 

“Alright, we’re ready now.” The man placed the gun inside his jacket, and indicated for them to go first. They went down through the lobby, and got into a car with tinted windows. 

“Where are we going?” Lydia asked. 

“Shut your mouth, bitch. I ask, you answer here.” The car took them to the airport, where they went straight to a private jet. Lydia leaned over to Stiles as the took off. 

“We’re going straight east.” 

“Hey, you, stop talking!” The man yelled. 

“But sir, I-” He cut her off with a backhand slap. Red bled into Stiles vision. 

“Hey, asshole, you can’t-” The last thing Stiles saw was a dark shape flying into his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess this is the last chapter, because I couldn't decide where to split it, so I just didn't! Enjoy!!

He woke up in a car with the other two, and the same man. He touched his head, where he felt a lump and a little bit of dried blood. They were driving through what looked like the forests of the West coast. 

“Look, man, I know we got off on a bad start, but can we at least know where you’re taking us?” Stiles asked. 

“I told you. To see Wyman.” Stiles huffed, and laid back on the seat. 

A few hours later, they arrived at a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. They were dragged inside, and tied to chairs in a circle. The man spoke to one of his colleagues, and then looked back at the trio.

“Wyman is here to see you,” he said to them. As if on cue, a door busted open, and a huge man emerged from it. He was at least six foot five, with brown hair, and he was ripped. 

“Whoa, man, lay off the steroids,” Stiles whispered to himself. 

“These are the three that killed Kemp?” Wyman asked their captor. 

“Yes.” 

“Rather puny, don’t you think?” He looked at them, walking into their little circle. He approached Lydia. “But this one, so beautiful…” he reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. Lydia shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off her!” Stiles shouted. 

“Well, well, what have we here? I’ve heard about you, little magic user. I know what you can do. And you,” he spun to Allison. “You must be the archer. It was your arrow that killed Zane, wasn’t it?” He turned to you. “And what does that make you? The pet?” He practically spat. “Well, you’ll have to pay for all of that. Kemp and Zane were my two best. Although maybe not, because they were able to be outsmarted by a bunch of teenagers.” 

Wyman turned to his men, and they produced a set of terrifying instruments that Stiles didn’t know what they were called, but he knew what they’d be used for. Wyman pulled out a sharp scalpel.

“We’ll start with the pet, since they’re the least important anyways.” Lydia steeled her gaze, meeting his eyes. 

“Go ahead,” she said, her voice almost completely level. He slid the scalpel over her collarbone, opening a thin cut there. Stiles could see her shaking with the effort of trying not to scream. 

“Me sequere veni et obiectum,” Stiles whispered to himself. Wyman spun around. 

“What was that?” 

“I said go to hell, you ugly bastard!” Stiles yelled. Wyman laughed, and turned to Lydia again, and opened another incision, this one over her ribs. She screamed this time, through gritted teeth. 

The bag appeared on Stiles lap, and he carefully pulled at a blade with his teeth, dropped it to his hands, and cut off his bonds. “Hey, asshole!” he yelled at Wyman. As soon as the man turned, a large throwing knife thunked into his chest, hitting his heart. He gurgled and fell to his knees. Suddenly they were surrounded by men. Stiles threw Allison a knife and her bow, where she cut off the bounds around her ankles, and instantly started loosing arrows. Stiles cut the ropes off of Lydia, and handed her the whip from Nydine. 

She cracked it into the face of a man coming up from behind Stiles, and he whipped around, his shortsword sliding out of its sheath. The three of them worked their way through the group, moving as a single cohesive unit. Soon, they were surrounded by men on the ground, some of them dead, some of them maimed. 

“Stiles!” They heard a familiar voice scream, and they watched as the entire pack burst through the doors of the warehouse, wolfed out and ready to fight. The sight that greeted them wasn’t the one they were expecting though. 

Derek took in the trio, bloody and breathing hard, surrounded by dead and moaning men on the ground, and began to laugh hysterically. 

“What?” Stiles asked, throwing his hands around. “We had it under control!” 

Derek gasped for breath. “I see that.” 

Scott ran forward, pulling grabbing Allison and pulling her to his chest. 

“Scott, I’m fine! Really, I’m okay.” He kissed her cheek, and grabbed Stiles, hugging him hard, and did the same to Lydia. 

“Chris couldn’t talk him down, so we came up here as fast as we could,” Isaac explained. 

“Well, as you can see, we were doing fine by ourselves,” Stiles said. “Not that we aren’t happy to see you guys, because we really are,” he added quickly to the look of hurt on Isaac’s face. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to go home. Please,” Lydia said, voice rough with exhaustion. “Before last night, I hadn’t gotten any good sleep in weeks.”

“What happened last night?” Scott asked, confusion on his face. Allison looked at the other two, and burst out laughing. He glared at her. “No, really, what happened, what am I missing here? Allison?” Allison slapped her knee. 

“Don’t you dare, Allison,” Stiles growled. She smirked at him. 

“Those two were screaming late into the night at the hotel yesterday.” Isaac cocked his head. 

“But I don’t understand why that would make her have a…” he trailed off, eyes going wide and cheeks burning red. “Oh.” Stiles covered his face, shaking his head. Scott let go of Allison to clap him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, congratulations, man! You finally got some!” Lydia cleared her throat. 

 

“I’m not a piece of meat, McCall!” Scott looked terrified for a second, but he saw that her face wasn’t serious. “But really, can we please go home?” 

“We have the cars out front,” Derek said. Stiles and Lydia climbed into the back of Derek’s car, and Allison hopped on the back of Scott’s motorcycle. Stiles ghosted his fingers over the cuts on Lydia’s chest.

“How are you doing?” She smiled up at him sleepily.

“They’ll heal.”

“Good. Because I could go for a round two of last night soon,” Stiles joked. Lydia smacked his shoulder halfheartedly.

“Watch yourself, Stilinski.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story. It's the first non-one shot I've posted, and even though it's not very long, I still appreciate everyone that reads it! Comments are appreciated! Thanks again!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


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